Discover more from The Last Hundred Miles
February 21st, 1980
I don’t know whether the fact that Richard id still alive tonight should be attributed to an awesome will to live on his part, the phenomenal sophistication and skill of the hospital, or a sheer act of God. Perhaps a combination.
I spent last night here alone, staving off the flu with orange juice and sunflower seeds. Thinking about Richard actually dying– flooded with a million feelings and memories. First thing this morning I called the hospital and they told me that Richard’s condition had worsened during the night and he was considered critical now.
All day work was nervous tedium. I seem unwilling, or unable to mask my anxiety and soon everyone in the office knows my ex-lover is dying in the hospital. The people I work with are so sweet– my distress dampened a little office birthday party they had planned for me. They bought me a cake and made me a card and Gloria bought me a red Calvin Klein t-shirt I’ve wanted for weeks.
This afternoon I called Richard’s apartment and spoke with Malcolm, his lover. I was so moved by his voice– so open and unassuming– so genuine in his appreciation of my phone call.